ared. "Come?" he repeated. "What are you talking about, Dumpling?
What's come?"

Vedder puffed out his fat cheeks. "War!" he said solemnly.

For an instant no one spoke. Dale felt a queer, tingling thrill go
through him. The thing seemed unreal, impossible. Somehow these past
few weeks of delay and hesitation had thrust the idea farther and farther
into the background of his mind. He caught a glimpse of Parker's face,
dazed and incredulous.

"What!" gasped Ranny. "You mean with--"

"Yep," nodded Vedder. "The President made a fine speech last night to
Congress, or something. I heard 'em talking about it at the post-office.
Everybody's as excited as the dickens. I guess it's in all the papers,
too, only Mr. Curtis's wasn't open."

Dale's eyes sought headquarters tent. Under the rolled-up flap he could
see the scoutmaster sitting on his cot, his head bent intently over an
outspread paper. Again that curious tingling went through the boy. Behind
him the shouts and laughter of the approaching crowd seemed suddenly
incongruous and out of place. He glanced again at Vedder, whose round
face still radiated self-importance, and wondered how the boy could look
so smug and complacent.

"Did Congress declare war?" asked Ranny, abruptly.

"I dunno; I guess so. They're going to raise a whopping army. I heard
one man say everybody from nineteen to twenty-five would have to go."

"_Have_ to go!" shrilled Court Parker. "Why, they'll _want_ to go, won't
they? I wish I was more than sixteen."

Unconsciously the four were moving toward the scoutmaster's tent. Others,
hearing a word or two, caught up with them, and the news was passed
quickly along. The throng paused at the tent entrance. Dale caught a
glimpse of the newspaper across the top of which flared in black capitals:

PRESIDENT CALLS FOR WAR DECLARATION

"It's true, then, Mr. Curtis!" Ranny Phelps exclaimed. "I thought it was
coming. When are they going to--"

"Hold your horses, Ranny," interrupted the scoutmaster. He stood up and
came toward them, his face curiously elated. "There's no time to answer a
lot of questions now. Mess-call will sound any time. Hustle and wash up,
fellows, and after dinner we'll talk this over."

Curious and excited as they were, no one protested. They scattered to
their tents, chattering volubly, and the mess-call found them still
speculating and asking questions of one another. During the meal the
discussion continued but in a slightl